The Walking Dead: Season -6
by TheWalkingDeadSeasonNegative
Summary: Aaron and Daryl have went out for the last week looking for new members for the Alexandria Safe-Zone. While Aaron is looking for good, honest people, Daryl is looking for other strong people to help defend the community. On one of there outings they run into a teenage boy named Henry who needs there help to save a friend of his that has been recently shot.


(THIS IS ONLY A PREVIEW! THIS IS NOT THE FULL VERSION)

 **The Walking Dead: -6**

Episode One: Wolves At The Gate

Part 1:"Homeless"

dolor hic tibi proderit olim

"Someday this pain will be useful to you." 

**Rick** thought a lot about Lori since moving to Alexandria. The large colonial-styled, row homes reminded Rick of the time he and Lori travelled to Maryland. It was the first time the two youngsters went on a road trip alone. One thing that stuck out to Rick was how noticeably grayer things were up North. But it wasn't just the terrain that reminded Rick of his time with Lori, it was Jessie.

Lori and Jessie had very little in common; Lori was a waify brunette and Jessie a more robust blonde. The one thing they both had in common: they both were damsels in distress. Rick didn't know what drew him to Jessie and her world. Rick claimed he wanted to end the domestic abuse Jessie endured from her heinous husband, Pete. But subconsciously, Rick was trying his best to resolve his issues with Lori. Shane's presence didn't help matters either.

Rick was already covered by the poncho made of bedsheets, covered in the viscera of the dead. The stench of the dead was repelling; the sulfur-ridden fumes filled the air of the small home. The dead were held at bay by a sofa that acted as a barrier between the living and the walkers. Rick knew that there was only a matter of time before they were all as dead as Deanna.

Rick left the boys, Father Gabriel, Michonne, and Jessie to go collect Judith. The group, covered by the entrails of the zombies, would walk among them. The camouflage was used by Rick before, he knew that if everyone did everything right, that they could make it to the armory safely. There was no other option, it was only a matter of time before the sofa would no longer be enough to keep the dead from reaching them. They could not hide anymore. There was no way out.

Hands locked, the group slipped effortlessly passed the dead after Rick collected his daughter. Rick's blue eyes dilated when the group made it to the porch. The streets, once secured and safe, now was overrun by walkers. Rick did not have the luxury of gawking at the sight of the undead, he quickly clasped Carl's hand, who held Jessie's, who held Sam's hand.

As the group slithered through the dead a small meek voice could be heard.

"Mom..."

"Mom..." called out Sam as the snarling voices of the dead increased.

"Mom."

"MOM!" the boy calls out louder, more assertive. Within moments the walkers immediately grabs Sam, descending on the boy viciously.

Jessie tries her best to save her son but is too, overwhelmed, but even with walkers pouring on them, she holds Carl's hand. Rick turns to see the dead feasting upon Sam and now Jessie but the sheriff's eyes focused on Jessie's death grip on his son. Carl, Judith! Rick thought before quickly removing his hatchet that sat at his waist.

Crack!

Rick slams the blade of the hatchet on Jessie's wrist, once, twice, finally slicing the bone on the third strike. Rick turns back to see Jessie engulfed by walkers; sweat and grit begins to blur the sheriff's eyes. Jessie's face turns into Lori's and the officer says, "I'm sorry."

"Don't-leave-us!" cries Jessie in the guise of Lori as the dead consumes her and her son.

 **TWO WEEKS EARLIER.**

 **The** sun burned hot over Alexandria, Virginia today. Historically, Alexandria was one of the first stops for many American slaves during the 1800's as the south tried to reclaim parts of the District of Columbia. Decades would pass, wars would begin and end; and slowly evolved into a town that was home of many politicians and those who wanted to live close to but not in the muck of Washington DC. But Aaron really enjoyed the muck of DC.

When Aaron moved from Montgomery County, Maryland, a primarily Irish area to the big city, it was against his mother's wishes. Aaron H. Gale had become heavily involved with politics when he was a youth; he was outraged how the system was rigged against disenfranchised people. A fire was lit in Aaron's stomach, after obtaining his Bachelor's at Virginia Commonwealth University he signed up for the Peace Corp.

Aaron had always been a good man; honest and moral all the way to his core. It made total sense for him to gravitate towards the like-mind in Daryl Dixon. Daryl, his face caked with grime, his hair damp from sweat was a stark contrast to the heavily manicured Aaron. But underneath, both Daryl and Aaron shared a belief; the belief in human goodness.

The two men were out looking for new recruits for their developing community of survivors. Daryl was led by his crossbow but followed by Aaron. Smut smeared Daryl's bearded face, his torso covered with a open leather vest, layered with a dark form fitting vest. He matched it with his dirty, tattered jeans and dark leather boots. Aaron was far more kempt in comparison; He wore a dark mauve flannel, tucked in dark linen pants with matching belt. Aaron kept his right hand gripped on the handle of his machete as the two men walked through the Virginian woods.

"You know what I miss?" began Aaron, but before Daryl could answer, Aaron answers. "Ice cream. I know Olivia attempts to create an ice cream-esque concoction, but it's just not the same. I don't want to be rude, but it taste nothing like ice cream."

"Good thing we're way the hell out here," Daryl added. "I doubt she can hear us."

"But it's those little things, you know. Ice cream, pizza, Steak au poivre with a side of albino asparagus, you know, the little things."

Daryl was a man that ate Possum burgers and roasted roadkill even before the outbreak, so the delicacies like "Steak au poivre" was foreign as its name to Daryl. "If we're lucky we'll be able to get a rabbit or something. You hungry?"

"A little bit," confessed Aaron.

The midday stroll was broken when a scream echoed through the tranquility of the day. Aaron quickly looked around, doing his best to locate the sound of the scream. The scream was masculine however youthful in nature. The screams were consistent as if he was struggling.

"Get back, get the fuck, back!" screamed the youthful male voice.

"You hear that?" Aaron asked Daryl, his machete prepared to attack.

"Yeah, I did," Daryl said as he scanned the field, trying his best to trace the location of the cries. "This way!"

The two men darted in a northwestern direction, one of elements of a good tracker is excellent hearing. Daryl's ears were just as acute as his eyes so he was able to isolate the cries well enough to locate the voice. Daryl and Aaron was shocked when they finally located the screamer.

The figure was tall and lean, he was covered from head to toe and full swat tactical gear, complete with ski mask, helmet, and goggles. The gear is dark blue and in block, white font, is said: "Burke County" on the figures back. Aaron could barely admire the gear because the figure was surrounded by walkers, roughly ten.

"Whoa!" Aaron said after stumbling upon the scene.

With Daryl's left hand he prevents Aaron from approaching any further, "Shhhhh..." the Archer requested. Daryl aimed his bow carefully but before he could fire he got distracted, he was distracted by how well the SWAT fighter was doing. Even though he was surrounded, screaming for his life, he managed to use his machete in such an impressive fashion. The young man was fighting for his life and if it would be snuffed out today, he was taking as many walkers as he could.

Dixon's distraction was broken when he heard another desperate cry from the young man. Daryl fired his bow and the bold embedded itself in the brain of the walker. He fired another bolt and it met its target with ease. Aaron joined in the fight, slamming his blade into the brain of an incoming walker. Aaron delivered a hefty kick before beheading another on coming walker. The three men went to work, hacking and braining the remaining walkers. When they were done, the bodies of the dead sat at their feet.

"Man, I thought I was a goner, for sure," the youthful male said.

"You got a name?" Dixon asked, sizing up the figure with the blue of his eyes.

"Oh wait one second," the figured removed his headgear and exposed an extremely youthful face. Though the boy was all of six feet, his face looked no older than Carl. His boyish face was a stark contrast to adult-like height, but it matched his adolescent voice. He had a pale complexion and chestnut brown, boyish curls the surrounded his crown. Small pink freckles spotted the rosiness of his cheeks.

And with a labored breath the boy answers, "I'm Henry Rockwell. Thanks for helping me; I've never fought that many on my own before."

"Nothing we're not used to," replied Aaron. Aaron inspected the boys gear and became naturally curious. "I take it you aren't a police officer."

"Are you kidding," replied a smiling henry, "I'm only 14."

"A **big** 14," replied Daryl, still suspicious of the kid.

"I'm serious, I used to attened Our Lady of Malibu School," confessed the boy.

"What the fuck is that, some kinda college?" asked Daryl still somewhat hostile.

"Bro, it's K through 8," answered Henry, he could sense the unfriendly energy permeating off Daryl. But Henry was in a bind and he would need more help from these strangers. "I really need your help?"

"Ain't we help you enough?" asked Daryl, still agitated. Aaron noticed his friend was very hostile towards Henry and was unsure why. Aaron was good at defusing situation so he stepped in.

"He's Daryl and I'm Aaron; are you still in trouble. I think we got all the walkers."

"You call them walkers, too?" Henry was surprised that they had the same nickname for the zombies as he did. The moniker "walker" originated from his friends he met on the road. At first he called them  
"freaks" but he liked the name walkers.

"What? Yeah, the dead, Daryl's people call them walkers, I guess the name just fits," Aaron said. "So you said you needed more help, what's going on? Where is your family?"

"They're dead," answered Henry, his voice was low and somber. "My mom died a year ago, dad died three months ago, and my sister Nancy-she got killed along with our group leader, Austin. Now it's just me and my two friends, one of them got shot, he's bleeding pretty badly right now. My other friend, Phillip, he's out here looking for a place for us to do surgery. Apparently there supposed to be a hospital close to here."

"Yeah, there was Inova Hospital, but its way too infested with the dead," replied Aaron. "Where are your other friends?"

"Phillip's somewhere close; he said there was an urgent care clinic walking distance from here," Henry tried his best to recall where his bleeding friend was. "It's back this way; just a ten minute walk, probably a three minute run."

"Where you taking us?" Daryl had not lowered his crossbow, something didn't sit well with him about this entire situation.

"Phillip is ex-military. We have a Humvee, it's black, enormous, you can't miss it. We gotta go now, Phillip told me not to leave him."

"Leave who?" Aaron was getting confused by Henry's use of pronouns. Aaron could sense the child's desperation. Aaron didn't hold a jaded belief in human beings as Daryl so he was open to helping the youth. "Look, we can help you, but you gotta tell us everything."

"It's just me and two of my friends, we've been riding together about twenty months. One is bleeding out, he was still conscious before I went out looking for Phillip. Phillip said he wouldn't go too far away, I mean you can't miss him, he dressed like a friggin' Power Ranger." Henry, though a California native, began to pick up Austin and Phillip's New Yorker lexicon. They were after all the leaders and Henry looked up to both men.

 **Phillip** was broken, everything that he fought for, everything he believed in was gone. Virginia was a bust, the large, walled, Honeycutt estates were breached and been for months. Worst of all, Phillip's mother and his son, Cameron, were both dead. If that wasn't enough tragedy, Phillip had lost Austin as well.

Phillip's eyes narrowed as he looked deeply at the barrel of his silver magnum pistol. He entertained the idea of sliding the cool steel barrel in his mouth and ending this eternal hell. Phillip was able to survive and endure the hellish world as long as Austin was with him. But now the former airman was alone.

He had spent the last two years pretending the world had not ended, but was instead on an extended pause. But the reality was the world had died a long time ago and he was just now getting the memo. His jet black hair had grown beyond his shoulders and now flowed down his back in twenty-two inch waves. The wind had caused strands to dance in the wind as the man contemplated ending his life.

He had made his decision, he was going to do it. The soldier decided to put the gun to his right temple. The honey-skinned man closed his hazel eyes and placed hus right finger on the trigger.

"What, you a coward, now?" asked a voice. When Phillip opened his eyes, Austin appeared before him. Austin stood before him, healthy, smiling, and alive. He wasn't the Austin he had become accustomed to, but the Austin he knew. He wasn't wearing his ATLAS combat uniform, he wore a long sleeved, form-fitting maroon sweater and matched it with dark jeans.

"You're not real," Phillip concluded before closing his eyes.

"Good deflection," the Phantom Austin replied, "It's a really good one too. I asked you, are you a coward now? Never took you for a bitch."

"You didn't know me that well, obviously," confessed Phillip, his finger tightens around the trigger but not enough to discharge the weapon.

"Clearly you didn't think I knew you," added Austin. "Remember, I'm just a figment of your imagination. A manifestation of your grief. Just a projection in that devilishly handsome head of yours. It would be a shame if you blew it apart."

"This isn't a joke, Austin," retorted Phillip, his eyes still shut.

"This isn't a game either," countered the apparition. "You take yourself out, you're not going to respawn like in Call of Duty. Hell, I should know."

"I can't do this anymore," declared Phillip. "I can't smile and pretend that everything is peachy-fucking-keen. It's not. Nothing's right, it hadn't been for a long time. I just pretended."

Austin sat beside Phillip, who still had his gun pressed against his temple, tears streaming down his face. "Don't forget your promise."

In the distance a scream echoed. The noise snapped Phillip out of his brief psychosis, when he opened his eyes Austin was gone and the gun was still pressed against his face. Phillip knew what a "rich hallucination" was but he still **chose** to believe Austin was talking to him from the great beyond.

He wouldn't abandoned his promise, after Austin was bit, he made Phillip promise that no matter what happened, he wouldn't allow anyone else to die. It was a ludicrous request, people were bound to die, but Phillip still promised Austin no more of **their** people would die. Another scream rang out and Phillip immediately stood and sprinted in the direction of the cries.

He tore through the Virginia forest, leaping over rocks and other obstructions, the soldier slowed down when he discovered a surrounded Henry, Daryl, and Aaron. The three struggled to fight a cluster of seventeen walkers. The three males had their backs to each other preventing the snarling dead from overwhelming them and sneaking up from behind.

The warrior in Phillip was broken, he lost his son, his husband, his mother all in one day. But he did promise Austin no one else would die. Phillip may have been many things: but a liar wasn't one of them. He narrowed his hazel eyes with a burning intensity before letting out a shrieking, high pitch whistle that caught the attention of some of the walkers.

Phillip quickly retrieves his bowie knives, preferring an up-close-and-personal kill , he goes to work. Slashing, ripping, and tearing. Phillip used both 12 inched, crescent blades to lance through the bone penetrating the brains of walkers. Before they could overwhelm him, he used his advanced hand to hand combat to keep them at bay.

Aaron watched for a second in awe as Phillip made defeating such an amount of walkers appear to be easy. "Whatchu doin', daydreaming?" asked Daryl who refocused Aaron before he began to ram his hunting knife in the brain of an oncoming walker.

"Phillip!" exclaimed Henry, happily.

But Phillip was in a trance, with only one more walker left. Phillip rained down an ocean of punches, his fist mercilessly colliding against the face of the zombie . He released his rage, his utter disgust of these creatures, before finishing the zombie with a thunderous round house kick to the head. The force of the kick beheaded the walker, sending his head flying many yards out of the survivors views.

Aaron and Daryl scanned Phillip from afar. They noticed the combat uniform, a dark navy color, adorned with knee and elbow pads and a small arsenal of knives and hand guns. It was very different from Henry's swat uniform in every way. Aaron concluded he had to be military.

"Where is Shane?" Phillip finally asked Henry, ignoring Aaron and Daryl's presence.

"He's still in the PYTHON," answered Henry.

"And you left him alone?" Phillip replied, agitation peppering his words.

"I had to look for you, it been more than ten minutes. Anything could have happened to you. I didn't know what to do next."

"You could have been killed out here!" Phillip, now incensed.

"Hey, lay off," Daryl said, defending Henry. The archer wasn't sure how he felt about Phillip, there was a heat in his belly that appeared the moment he laid eyes on Phillip.

The soldier locked his eyes with the blue of Daryl's and said, still speaking only to Henry, "Who the hell is this?"

"It's Aaron and Daryl; they're really good men. They helped out me when I got surrounded by those things."

"You've known them what, 10 minutes. How do you know they're good men?"

"Better than you, leaving your people like that," Daryl chastised. "Leaving some kid to fend for himself."

"Look here, Deliverance," Phillip quipped, "when I ask for your opinion-wait, I won't **ever** ask your opinion. Which one are you anyway?"

"That's Daryl," Aaron said, his voice was cool as he attempted to resolve the situation. He could see the heat rise between Daryl and Phillip already. "I hear you have a wounded friend, we have a community and a doctor."

Daryl cut his eyes at Aaron, he was surprised that Aaron was so forthright with all this sensitive information. Without even really reading the situation, Aaron immediately blurts out the existence of Alexandria. Aaron could read Daryl's eyes and could tell his friend was infuriated, even though Dixon stood mutely.

"How far from here?" asked Phillip, his borrow soften at the sound of the good news.

"Maybe 30 minutes," said Aaron. "We have a vehicle, we can get you there."

Phillip's body language relaxed, Aaron could sense that as well. "We have a vehicle, we can follow you."

"Fine, then," Aaron said. "But we have to check out your vehicle, make sure you don't have an army of men that are going to pour out of your car."

"Like in Troy?" asked Phillip, his right eyebrow arching as he studied Aaron's face.

Aaron noticed the intensity of Phillip's stare, but it didn't appear hostile in nature, just intense. "Exactly," replied Aaron.

Phillip and Henry led the way back to the PYTHON, this worked for Daryl because he had a few words for Aaron. "Are you fucking crazy?" Daryl asked. "We don't know anything about these guys and you're just gonna bring them back?"

"It's one guy and a kid, Daryl."

"He ain't no kid, little asshole's taller than me," remarked Daryl. "And don't let me get started with GI-Jackass over there."

"We're offering to help them, not let them stay," added Aaron. "I thought you still believed in people, Daryl?"

"I believe in them alright," Daryl countered. " 'Trust', is another question."

"They seem desperate, like how your people were," Aaron countered. "I saw you, Rick, and the others just out there. I couldn't just leave you out there, just like I can't leave them." Daryl's face tightened, Aaron was right. It wasn't in Aaron to turn down people in need, nor wasn't it in Daryl.

"Mamma Lucia," Aaron said in awe when the men made it to the PYTHON. Aaron, being a resident of DC, had encountered many military style vehicle's but none like the PYTHON. And for good reason, The PYTHON was a prototype. The length of the vessel was over twenty feet and its width was 13.5 feet, the black vehicle was reinforced with steel plates that made the vehicle nearly indestructible. Daryl and Aaron didn't know the measurements but knew it was enormous in size.

Each car door had a matching button panel with grey and red buttons. The contrast of the buttons stuck out to Aaron, who was very curious about the entire vessel. Dixon however became even more suspicious, something was not right here.

"We gotta hurry, I didn't have time to plug the wound," declared Phillip. "If we can get to your place quick enough we may be alright." Phillip quickly entered the entry code once he reached the button panel. The right-back door opens and two blue jeaned legs were visible to Aaron and Daryl who both stood a few yards away. Though Aaron believed in helping people, Daryl's words hit close to home. You can't trust everyone.

"Shane, are you ok," Henry asked desperately.

"I'm fucking shot, man. You tell me," the voice replied.

No way, Daryl thought.

"Let me check on that wound," Phillip asked. "Listen for a sucking sound, Henry." As Phillip attempted to inspect and attend to Shane's chest wound, Dixon moves in for a closer look.

"Shit!" was the only word that he could articulate once he got a full view.

The darkness of Shane's eyes expanded when he finally saw Dixon, first he began to chuckle, which made him cough up a clot of blood. A small scar was visible on the right side of his temple where Carl's bullet skidded off his face. Shane kept his hair low but grew a thin five o'clock shadow that was peppered with iron hairs. His face still remained somewhat youthful and his skin retained its olive glow.

"Well shit, man. I must have died and already went to hell if Daryl Fucking-Dixon is in front of me," the former sheriff finally said.

"Do you know this man?" Aaron asked, astonished that this stranger knew Daryl on a first and last name basis.

Daryl had no other words to say. He knew that this entire thing, from Henry to Phillip and now Shane, was bigger than him. That all of **this** was connected to the tail of a dragon that was ready to devour them all. And now Aaron wanted to take Shane Walsh of all people back to Alexandria where Rick was basically the legal authority. This was going to end poorly.

Breathless Daryl only replied with one word: "Shane..."


End file.
